


this is me trying

by unohoot



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Frat Parties, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Jackson Wang and his Big Gay Feelings, Jackson Wang being a whole mess, M/M, and they were ROOMMATES, college students drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26138311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unohoot/pseuds/unohoot
Summary: The first time Jackson sees Mark, he’s knee deep in the jello pool at the EXO fraternity, halfway through his second year at college and drunk off his tits. He’s got BamBam in a headlock and is close to winning the coveted plastic princess tiara of jello wrestling when he sees him across the room, and is struck speechless because goddamn if that’s not the prettiest guy he’s ever seen.
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Comments: 18
Kudos: 111





	this is me trying

**Author's Note:**

> alternatively titled: how Jackson gets banned from EXO fraternity events and also he's Very Gay. 
> 
> I was just thinking about how Jackson would get banned from frat parties for being too chaotic and it turned into a Markson fic. please enjoy!
> 
> title is from the TSwift song but it doesn't really have anything to do with the story.

The first time Jackson sees Mark, he’s knee deep in the jello pool at the EXO fraternity, halfway through his second year at college and drunk off his tits. He’s got Bambam in a headlock and is close to winning the coveted plastic princess tiara of jello wrestling when he sees him across the room, and is struck speechless because _goddamn_ if that’s not the prettiest guy he’s ever seen—

 _“Urk!”_ BamBam takes advantage of his momentary distraction and pulls himself out of the headlock and promptly pushes Jackson face first into the jello. 

When Jackson drags himself out of the violently blue substance and wipes it out of his eyes, the pretty boy with his blonde hair and high cheekbones is gone. 

—

“I found him!” Jackson announces to Haerin when he finds her at the cafeteria approximately a week later, arms stretched out wide and face tilted up towards the sky. 

“Who?” Haerin asks dumbly from around a mouthful of french fries. 

Jackson drops his arms and glares at her. “The love of my life, obviously.” 

“The hot guy you saw from across the room at EXO with your beer-goggles on?” She asks, and then huffs when he nods. “Good, tell him he owes me ten bucks for making you lose that match.” 

“Forget that,” Jackson says dismissively and throws himself on the bench opposite her. He swipes a few of her fries, ignoring her lame attempts at batting his hands away. “Suho knows him—apparently his name is Mark.” 

“Hmm, cute.” 

“He’s a chemistry major—”

“Good, you need an extra brain cell.” 

“And he’s going to the EXO party next week, which means you need to go with me.” 

Haerin quickly musters up a stink eye. “Absolutely not.” 

“Yes!” Jackson cries indignantly. “Come on, we’ll find you a half-decent dick to grind on—there’s always someone at the Eta Xi parties, this is a weirdly good-looking campus.”

She’s silent for a moment as she regards him carefully. “Fine. But I’m only going for you—and don’t start yelling about going on ‘dick duty’ again, it’s embarrassing.” 

“Penis patrol?”

“No.” 

“Wang Gang?” 

“I already feel sorry for this dude.” 

—

They show up at the party with Haerin’s roommate in tow, on time (for once) and already drunk (nothing new). Jackson spends approximately fifteen minutes trying to see if he can find Mark in the crowd before realising that with half the campus trying to squeeze into the hallways it would be near-impossible. 

He distracts himself by throwing himself head-first into the party like he usually does. He takes more shots than he should and plays a strong game of beer pong, and then by chance as he’s stumbling down the hallway he notices a familiar messy blonde hairdo in the EXO living room. 

The music is quiet in there, and there are a couple of people smoking by the window, but that’s definitely Mark leaning elegantly against the wall, talking to a couple of girls. 

Spurred on by alcohol and the fact that the two girls have just turned away from him, Jackson moves forward boldly. “Hey!” He says, his voice sounding too loud in his own ears. “Mark, right?” 

Mark turns and blinks at him in surprise, his earring swinging and catching the light. A smile tugs at his lips as his eyes rove over Jackson’s face. “Jello guy?” 

“Wow, I’m glad I left an impression,” he laughs, and is immediately pleased when Mark grins back before he shyly drops his gaze. It’s incredibly endearing. “I’m Jackson.” 

“Nice to meet you, Jackson,” he says as he glances up again, his voice soft and musical. 

“So,” Jackson sticks his arm out to lean against the wall, “You come here often? _Oh, shit—_ ” The TV he’d just accidentally thrown his body weight against crashes down from its fixtures on the wall, and Mark leaps out of the way just in time as it hits the hardwood floor with a dull crack. 

Suho skids into the doorway. “What the _fuck_ , Wang!” 

—

After what some might call a disastrous first meeting Jackson somehow forms a reasonably steady friendship with Mark. He occasionally sees him around campus and only once or twice in the library working on some papers, and over the next couple of months he manages not to do anything disastrously embarrassing. 

The end-of-year EXO party is where things go sideways. Once again, he’s a dozen shots deep and this time he really does get to wear the coveted plastic princess tiara of jello wrestling after pinning Minsu down with one hand. (Jackson does feel a little bad for beating a girl, but she had demolished Bambam to challenge him which meant that he couldn’t possibly go easy on her). 

On his way to the kitchen for another beer, someone bumps into him and calls his name. “Hey, Youngjae!” He cries, ruffling the younger male’s hair. “What’s up?” 

Youngjae grins at him. “We’re gonna mattress surf down from the first floor! Wanna join?” 

Jackson laughs. “Fuck yeah, I do,” he says. 

And so he finds himself in a line of other people with the same, ill-advised intention of sliding down EXO’s prime surfable wooden stairs on Chen’s bare mattress. When it’s Jackson’s turn, he does a running start and throws himself on the queen-sized mattress and hurtles down the stairs. It’s a testament to the strength of his momentum that he actually ends up flying off-course and crashing through the bottom half of the bannister, smashing through those thin wooden posts and falling down onto the landing below. 

He groans, dizzy as he rolls over in the pile of shattered wood around him. A hand closes over his shoulder and he looks up into Mark’s blurry face. 

“Jackson? Hey, are you okay?” He asks, his bright voice laced with concern as he frowns down at Jackson. 

“There are three of you,” he replies thickly, blinking up at him. 

Amusement tugs at the corner of Mark’s mouth. “Come on,” he says. “Can you stand?” 

Jackson takes Mark’s hand, making a note of those elegant musician’s fingers, and lets himself be hauled to his feet. He must have made a horrible grimace, because Mark’s arm is around his shoulders, his eyebrows pulled together in concern. 

Haerin’s face swims in front of him. “Damn, Wang, you really don’t do things by half, do you?” 

“Shut your face.” 

Jackson puts a hand over his sore ribs and rests his weight against the wall while Haerin turns to Mark with a question in her eye. 

“I think we should probably go to the hospital,” Mark says quietly. 

Haerin throws Jackson a doubtful look. “What a drama queen,” she says. “I’ll go tell Minsu we’re leaving.” 

Jackson is not the only drunk college student in the ER, in fact, there are so many that Haerin suggests out loud that they just take him back home and hope he doesn’t die overnight. But Mark insists on staying until he gets an x-ray and so they sit on a couple of spindly chairs together in the corner of the busy waiting room. 

An hour goes by, which Jackson spends nodding off and Mark and Haerin spend talking and taking turns poking Jackson awake. Eventually, Haerin looks down at her phone and grimaces. 

“Will you guys be okay if I leave you? Minsu lost her keys again,” she says. 

Mark waves a hand. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll watch him.” 

“Yeah, Haerin,” Jackson says, his eyes still closed. “I have Mark to be my ministering angel, I don’t need you anymore.” 

“Dick.” 

“Bitch.” 

Haerin puckers her lips and sends him an air-kiss, which he returns. 

“You guys have a weird friendship,” Mark says once she’s gone. “How long have you known each other?” 

Jackson cracks an eye open and looks at him. He’s leaning back in his chair beside him, his long, twiggy legs stretched out, his bleached hair all rumpled from running his hands through it all night. “Not even that long,” he says after a beat. “Met her at the end of first term this year—we scraped gum off benches together.” 

Mark cocks his head at him, that slow smile spreading on his lips. “What’d you do?” 

“Teepeed the science building.” 

Mark claps his hand over his mouth as he snorts loudly, smothering his giggles. “I remember that,” he says. “How many toilet rolls did that even take?” 

“About four packs of thirty-eight rolls,” Jackson murmurs after a while. Belatedly, he remembers that Mark spends most of his time in the science building. “You’re in chem, right?” He asks and Mark nods with a hum. “How’s that going for you?” 

“Awful,” he replies. “It’s just labs all day, and then I spend all night writing reports.” 

Jackson watched him for a moment. “Then why are you doing it? Chemistry, I mean.” 

“Oh,” Mark looks surprised at the question. “I like the challenge. And it’s really interesting—it’s just a lot of work.” He cocks his head again, and Jackson realised how endearing he finds it when he does that. “You know, I still don’t know what your major is.” 

Jackson looks down, sheepish. “I still haven’t chosen mine,” he says. “I’m starting to get harassing emails from the office, too,” he sighs. “I just keep changing my mind, to be honest.” 

Mark looks at him with a puzzled frown. “Is _that_ why I saw you in my calculus class last term?” 

Jackson grins. “I was just trying it out.” 

“You’ll find something that feels right, don’t worry.” 

“Thanks, man,” he murmurs, feeling warm. Mark isn’t looking at him like he’s just some frat kid too drunk to choose his direction in life. His eyes are soft, and they don’t leave room for any doubt. 

A nurse comes to see him not long after, and someone prods at his ribs and his head and then puts him rather unceremoniously in front of an x-ray. He’s sent home with a box of painkillers and a warning to stop showing up at the ER on a Friday night. 

—

Jackson moves in with Mark on a whim after summer for his third year when the older boy casually mentions that he’s still looking for someone to split rent with, and they fall into an easy routine. They’ll walk together to campus when they have morning classes at the same time, and get lunch together at the cafeteria a few times a week, and at the end of the day, sometimes Jackson will be able to convince Mark to join him at the gym. 

He learns things about Mark, too. He learns that Mark is not a morning person, and thus he’s slowly gotten into the habit of leaving a plate of toast out for Mark to inhale before he’s late to class. He learns that Mark gets absorbed in what he’s doing sometimes, and would stay all night at the library on the days before his labs are due if Jackson didn’t swing by with the promise of dinner and coffee that doesn’t come from the vending machine on the ground floor. 

He also learns that Mark likes to share clothes, and he finds that he doesn’t mind this at all. Sunday nights are movie nights at their place, because Fridays are reserved for nights out and because it sometimes takes more than twenty-four hours for Jackson to feel like himself again. 

Haerin and her roommate come round this particular Sunday for an Indiana Jones marathon, and everything starts out great. Jackson comfortably man-spreads in the middle of the sofa and Mark sits with his back against the armrest at one end, cradling a bowl of popcorn, knees drawn up, his toes innocently tucked under Jackson’s thigh. 

Halfway through _The Temple of Doom_ , Jackson starts to take notice of Haerin’s side-eye glances from her where she’s curled up next to Minsu in the armchair. “What?” he mutters after a while, raising one questioning eyebrow. 

“Nothing,” Haerin says. And then, “Isn’t that your sweater?” 

Jackson follows her gaze to Mark, who indeed appears to be wearing one of his hoodies. It’s one of the black ones that probably has TEAM WANG plastered on the back, and even though he and Mark are the same height it practically drowns his skinny frame. Mark’s eyes flit over to him when he takes notice of his and Haerin’s attention, but he says nothing, lips just twitching with the ghost of a smile. 

“Yeah,” Jackson confirms with a shrug, unconcerned. 

“Cool,” she replies. After a moment, she stands from the chair and turns to Jackson. “Jackson, can you please help me look for the brownies?” 

Jackson stuffs a few pieces of popcorn in his mouth without taking his eyes off the TV. “Cupboard next to the sink,” he says. 

“I don’t know where the sink is.” 

Mark looks over, amused, before turning back to the film playing. 

“Jackson.” 

“Fine,” he groans, and follows her to the kitchen. “Alright, what is it? If this is a female emergency, I keep tampons for you in the bathroom.” 

Haerin raises her eyebrows at him and folds her arms, leaning against the counter. “Um, hello? Mark’s wearing your hoodie.” 

He sighs. “So? He likes to wear my stuff sometimes, it’s no big deal.” 

Haerin hits him in the arm with the back of her hand. “You told me I would have to pay an insurance fee of fifty bucks to borrow your t-shirt after mine got puked on!” 

Jackson feels the corner of his mouth quirk up. “Yeah, that’s for _you_.” 

“I also remember Jaebeom asking to borrow your yellow sweatpants last week and you didn’t let him, even though they’re ugly and you haven’t worn them since you bought them,” Haerin counters. 

He frowns and huffs out a breath. “That’s because it’s Jaebeom-hyung.” 

Haerin looks at him pointedly. “Jackson, your Big Gay Feelings are showing.” 

“They are not.” 

“So is your Big Gay Boner.” 

Jackson looks down on reflex, rolling his eyes when Haerin sniggers at her win. “You’re a whole bag of crap,” he says. Haerin snags the tub of brownies from the cupboard which she had no problem finding on her own, and Jackson follows her back to the living room. 

He goes to sit back in his spot on the couch, and as he does so, he lifts one thigh to let Mark slip his toes back under before settling down. Mark doesn’t say anything, and neither does Jackson, but out the corner of his eye he sees the secret smile Mark gives him, and feels very warm. 

—

Jackson somehow manages to keep his Big Gay Feelings to himself, and he hates Haerin just a little bit for pointing them out to begin with. Now, his stomach does a thing everytime Mark comes to cuddle when he finds Jackson sprawled across the sofa after a long day; and he gets this funny tingle down his spine whenever Mark walks around wearing his t-shirts and lifts his arms to reveal a small sliver of skin at his waist. 

It’s several weeks until the next time they manage to attend an EXO party together, because Mark had reports due and Jackson was busy in his new classes for the major he finally settled on. 

“Come _on_ ,” Jackson says as he steers Mark down the hallway of the Eta Xi house. They arrived early enough for the house to actually be maneuverable, but there are still a ton of people, already drunk as early as ten PM and sloshing their drinks down his shirt when they inevitably bump into him. “There’s no way you failed.” 

“Jackson,” Mark complains, allowing himself to be led into the kitchen where Jackson pours them both out shots of a mild, sugary liquor he normally wouldn’t drink but knows that Mark likes. “You have no idea. I wrote that report between _three_ and _seven_ _a.m_.” 

Jackson throws back the shot and indicates for Mark to do the same. “I’ll admit it was a little horrifying to find you on the kitchen floor like that this morning.” 

“You shouldn’t have let me sleep there,” Mark says, and watches as Jackson pours him another shot. “My back is seriously killing me.” 

“Hey, I _gave_ you a pillow,” he quips back, raising his eyebrows. “And when I tried to wake you up to get you to go to bed you tried to strangle me in your sleep.” 

Mark grins sheepishly. “Sorry.” 

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he says with an easy shrug. “I got to practice the moves I learnt from that women’s self-defence class Haerin took me to last term.” 

“Well, they clearly worked since you’re not dead in our kitchen.” 

Jackson looks at him deadpan. “Mark, you are a twig, and you were half-asleep. All I had to do was stand up.” 

“Rude,” Mark says and pouts. “You know that stuff is all physics, though, right?” 

“What, self-defence?” Jackson says, a grin pulling at his lips. 

“Yeah,” he insists. “Seriously. Like—Anyone can kick a door down, you know.” 

Jackson hums, turning to lean back against the counter next to Mark. “I’m pretty sure there’s an episode on Brooklyn Nine Nine about that.” 

“You mean where trained police officers can all successfully break a door down?” 

“No,” Jackson sings, and wags his finger at Mark. “Where twiggy Jake Peralta can’t do it but Terry Crews definitely can.” 

Mark scoffs. “Breaking down a door is about hitting it at its weakest point. You can’t just throw yourself at it and hope it works.” 

Jackson grins. “Wanna bet?” 

Mark looks at him with wide eyes. “Oh, I don’t think that’s a good—“ 

Jackson ignores the rest of his warning and instead turns on his heel and sprints at the closed door that leads from the kitchen onto the back porch. He throws himself at it like in the movies, shoulder first, and to his utter delight it breaks clean off its hinges and shatters around the lock, sending both him and the door sprawling onto the porch. 

He sits up, dizzy and ecstatic. “Mark! Mark, it worked!” 

But Mark is already grabbing him by the elbow and hauling him to his feet. “Oh my god,” he hisses through gasps of laughter, “We’re gonna have to run, _now_.” 

“Run?” Jackson looks around, bewildered as he follows Mark down the stairs and onto the grass. “Why run?” 

“WANG, WHAT DID YOU DO?” Suho bellows from the very splintered hole in the wall where the door used to stand. 

“Ohh,” Jackson breathes, and grips Mark’s hand tighter as they both begin to dash away from the scene of the crime. 

—

Jackson finds himself having to purposefully avoid several of the Eta Xi brothers after that, because although he _does_ plan on paying for the damages it just so happens that he’s a little low on cash and also just doesn’t feel like facing Suho just yet. 

Which is why he finds himself in a dilemma some weeks later, facing Haerin down in the cafeteria. 

“What do you _mean_ , you’re not going?” She cries, her hands in the air. “It’s Island Night, we’ve been waiting for this _all year._ ”

“I know, I know,” he groans, “But seriously, I can't walk around campus without getting the stink eye from any of those guys, it’s like they can smell me.” 

“Probably because you keep wearing that ridiculous deodorant.” 

“I just came from the gym!” 

“ _Just buy a different—_ “ Haerin breaks off suddenly, eyes locked on something behind him. “Mark!” 

Jackson whirls around as Mark approaches them with his pleasant smile, pulling his headphones down to spool around his neck. “Hey, you two.” He looks at Jackson. “Ready for lunch?” 

“Mark,” Haerin says before Jackson can get a word in. “Are you coming to Island Night at EXO tonight?” 

“EXO?” Mark says, looking surprised. “I thought we were avoiding them, considering… you know.” 

Haerin stares between the two of them blankly. “What are you guys, married? Minsu is making me go, which means you guys have to come, too.” 

Mark looks at Jackson sideways. “It sounds fun,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. 

Jackson caves. “It does sound fun. Damn it.” 

It takes him and Mark a couple of hours after classes finish to barge into half the thrift stores around campus looking for appropriately horrible hawaiian shirts. In the end, they arrive, clashing horribly in violently pink and blue and orange prints, wearing dollar-store sunglasses, and Mark holds a blow-up flamingo under his arm that Jackson found for him. 

Eta Xi manage to outdo themselves on their theme this year. There are tiki torches set up outside and someone has actually taken bags of sand and turned the front yard into a budget beach with a kiddie pool. 

At the doors, Jackson puts on his best winning smile as Chen glares him down. “Suho says you get one more strike, Wang,” he says, and drops a lei over his head. 

“I’ll make it count,” Jackson winks as Mark ushers him forwards. 

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” he assures Chen, who looks like he doesn’t believe him. 

The inside of the house is even more outrageously decorated. There are blow-up palm trees everywhere strung with lights; paper lanterns hang from every doorway and light fixture. There’s even sand crunching under Jackson’s flip flops as he walks further into the house, weaving around other students and frat brothers. 

He manages to stay on good behaviour for most of the night, limiting his consumption of twirly pink cocktails with paper umbrellas to enough to get him pleasantly tipsy without being hammered. 

At some point in the night, Baekhyun starts a game of pass-the-coconut, except the coconut is full of rum and you have to drink from it every time someone gives it to you. It’s a game Jackson finds himself thoroughly enjoying, as the rum burns sweetly down his throat and settles in his stomach with a pleasant heat. 

He passes the coconut to Mark with a grin. “How much d’you wanna bet we’ll catch something from drinking out the same coconut as half the campus?” 

Mark laughs, his eyes scrunching up as he takes it. He tilts his head back, and suddenly Jackson thinks he may have had one too many twirly cocktails, because his gaze lingers on the elegant line of Mark’s throat as he swallows a mouthful of rum. As he lowers the coconut and passes it on, a drop of alcohol spills from the corner of his mouth and runs down his chin. 

Jackson’s fingers are there before the very inebriated boundary manager in his brain can stop them, wiping it away. 

Mark’s eyes snap to him, wide and dark in the dim glow of the colourful lighting. Jackson swallows, and after a moment, looks away. 

“You always hesitate,” Mark murmurs, so low Jackson shouldn’t be able to hear but he does. His breathing gets heavier as his heart beats faster. Mark’s tilting his head again, looking up at him through a fringe of long, delicate eyelashes. “Why do you keep hesitating?” 

Something begins to unfurl in Jackson’s stomach—something that he had been winding tighter and tighter over the last year without even knowing it, adding another twist every time he reminds himself that he’s not allowed to look at Mark like that, he’s not allowed to think about Mark like that. 

But Mark is allowing him. 

His hands slide up that graceful neck without another moment’s thought, and as Mark rises to meet him, their lips catch. He tastes like Malibu rum and kissing him is like breathing in air so pure it makes him dizzy. Mark’s hands are everywhere—fisting in the front of his shirt, sliding around his waist, climbing his back—and Jackson’s entire body feels alive with an electricity that’s barely holding him together. His fingers dig into the back of Mark’s neck, holding him there as he kisses him open with bruising force, and it’s not until he’s licking a line across Mark’s teeth and Mark is gasping against him that he realises he’s trying to speak. 

“Bathroom—” 

Jackson’s eyes fly open. “ _Fuck_ —yes, okay—” he’s not even sure of the words coming out of his mouth as he and Mark scramble just a few feet to the closest available bathroom. Whatever tight knot was in his stomach before has now completely unfurled. 

The door locks behind them and Jackson immediately crowds Mark against the sink, sliding his fingers back into that mess of hair to pull on it and angle Mark’s mouth against his. Mark pushes his hands up under Jackson’s shirt, and neither of them take much notice when a few of the buttons pop off. Jackson groans as Mark delivers a particularly sharp nip to his bottom lip, and moves his mouth down to drive hot, breathy kisses down Mark’s throat. 

“Do you have any idea,” Mark pants as he begins to fumble with Jackson’s belt, “How long I’ve been waiting for you to do this?” 

Jackson’s hands are under Mark’s thighs and he lifts him easily onto the edge of the sink, pushing between his knees. He draws heavy breaths against Mark’s open mouth, his kisses slowing. “I didn’t know if I was allowed to have you.” 

“Have me,” Mark breathes, his hands catching at Jackson’s jaw, forcing him to look up into his face. His pupils are completely blown, his mouth soft and red. “Have all of me—” 

Jackson surges forward, claiming Mark’s lips in a desperate kiss as he shifts his weight against him, pushing his back up against the mirror. All of a sudden there is resounding _CRACK_ and Mark slips out his grasp as the sink beneath him fully breaks away from the tiled wall and crashes to the ground. 

“Holy shit,” Jackson chokes, standing in the bathroom with Mark in his arms as they both get sprayed by the defunct pipe jutting out from the wall. 

Mark, still trying to catch his breath, begins to laugh. “Suho is gonna _kill_ you.” 

Jackson looks around the room desperately. “Let’s go out the window—” 

He can’t quite believe Mark is going along with him, but Jackson ends up boosting him out the tiny bathroom window. Jackson has to stand on the toilet in his flip flops to reach the ledge of the window, and before he pulls himself up he makes a split-second decision to grab the slightly deflated pink flamingo from the corner of the bathroom and launch it out ahead of him. 

Mark helps him down from the other side and he ends up landing ungracefully in the slightly damp grass around the side of the house. He gets a sense of deja vu as Mark takes his hand and they sneak out the front yard, trying not to appear suspicious as they leave, cackling, sliding around in wet flip-flops with a pink flamingo. 

—

Jackson wakes up the next morning with his nose buried in Mark’s hair and his leg hooked over his slender hips. He tightens his arms imperceptibly, and noses down the back of Mark’s neck to drop a kiss on his shoulder. Mark snuffles in his sleep, and Jackson smiles against his skin. 

Jackson nods off again, feeling warm and pliant. He stirs awake again when Mark shifts in his arms, and he loosens his grip to let the blonde turn around and nuzzle against the pillow beside his head. 

“Morning,” Mark mumbles, his voice scratchy with sleep, and slowly blinks his eyes open. Jackson leans forward to brush their noses together, and touches their lips together in a delicate kiss. When he pulls back, Mark’s face is breaking into a smile that puts any sunrise to shame. 

“Morning.” 

  
  
  
  



End file.
